A Good Listener
by dferveiro
Summary: Complete! Based on Who Are You from season 1, this story delves into an alternate version of events when Amy Henler threatens Nick. Whole team involved to certain degrees, but Nick is the main focus.
1. Default Chapter

a/n: This is based on the season 1 ep, "Who Are You?". You'll quickly see this is an alternate version of events. Enjoy!

**A Good Listener**

Nick snapped on one latex glove as he studied the photos in front of him. The Helners home was nice, and the framed photos in front of him blended in nicely.

One photo in particular caught his attention. Two people stood on a rocky surface, but what grabbed Nick was what they each held.

_Curved, serrated edge . . . like crocodile teeth._ Nick's heart beat faster as he realized this could very well be the type of instrument used to murder the victim, Faye Green. His eyes stayed glued to the photo as he raised his voice to ask a question.

"Mrs. Henler, do you and your husband do any rock-climbing?" he asked. In response, he heard the distinct click of a gun.

He froze and slowly turned to look.

"Yes," Mrs. Henler said, holding a gun at his face. "It's what I used to kill her."

* * *

Grissom couldn't help but feel satisfied. Maybe he felt a bit smug too. He hated it when criminals tried to deny what he already knew to be true. Then again, Gil got a thrill from proving they were lying. 

He turned his car, following the police car that held Mr. Henler. Gil grabbed his cell phone and dialed Brass.

He wanted to give the detective a heads-up on Henler and what the CSIs found. A very faint grin showed on Gil's face as he thought about the other evidence Nick was collecting.

* * *

Amy Henler cried, but the gun didn't shake in her hands. That was Nick's first clue that though she was obviously disturbed, she was in enough control to really pull the trigger. 

Nick didn't know if it'd even be better if she wasn't in control. He gulped as he kept his hands up in the air.

"There was so much blood!" Mrs. Henler said. "No one else could see it, but I could."

"Mrs. Henler, I'm a good listener," Nick said over the lump in his throat. "You've got to give me the gun." She jerked away, as if he had lunged for it rather than negotiate.

"You arrested my husband," she shouted at him between tears. She raised the gun at him, closer to his head. "I'm sorry!"

Nick's pulse sky-rocketed. "No, wait!"

"I'm sorry!" she said again.

"Please! They'll know!" It was a desperate attempt, but it worked. Amy Henler froze.

"What do you mean?" she asked. Nick swallowed.

"The police. They'll know--you don't want to shoot a cop, crime scene investigator or otherwise," Nick reasoned. "You should just try to get away."

Amy seemed to think about this, her eyes looking off as she envisioned the scenario.

"You'll tell them," she said. Nick shook his head eagerly.

"No. You could . . ." He tried to think of something, quickly, any alternative to being killed. "Lock me in a room. Take my cell phone. They won't know until they come looking for me."

She looked like she was considering it. But her eyes were still so distraught, tears running down them in a new torrent as she studied him. Slowly, she shook her head, and Nick felt that he'd lost. Tears of his own prickled at his eyes.

"No. You're coming with me."

* * *

"Look, I've told you already," Jason Henler tried again. "I was in Reno when Faye disappeared. Check with the company!" 

Brass raised a hand before the suspect got out of hand. "Oh trust me. We have someone checking it out."

Gil suppressed a smile. Sara was checking it all out right now. Catherine was on her way to help Nicky collect evidence.

"Do you want to explain the blood on the floor?" Brass asked.

Henler looked surprise. "What blood?! The floor is lacquered. Amy repaints every spring. So what?"

Suddenly the hairs on the back of Gil's neck stood on end. He felt a shudder go through his body.

"_Amy_ repaints the floors?" he asked, interrupting the conversation for the first time.

Jason nodded, oblivious to the implications.

Gil looked to Brass, and saw the same realization in his eyes. _We could have the wrong person._

Suddenly Grissom's phone rang. He quickly answered it.

"Grissom."

* * *

Gil answered the phone, and Catherine tucked a strand of her hair away as she started speaking. 

"Uh, where's Nick?" She swept her eyes over the living room.

"He's not there?" Grissom asked.

"His car is, but he isn't," Catherine answered. She knelt down and picked up a shattered cell phone with a gloved hand. "His kit is here. I found his cell phone, which looks like someone slammed into the floor." Her eyes flickered to another part of what she feared was going to be evidence. "His gun is here too."

"What about Mrs. Henler?" Gil asked next. Catherine noted that rare but rising tone of panic in his voice.

"Gone," Catherine said. "No car in the garage and the master bedroom looks tossed." It could have meant a million things, but none of them were good, especially with Nick AWOL.

"I'm with Brass," Grissom said. "I'll have an APB put out on her car. Let me know what else you find."

Catherine hung up. She surveyed the room again, this time with a sinking feeling in her stomach. She could tell Grissom knew something more, but for now, she just had to find what she could to help the case.

* * *

"Nick's missing too," Gil said in a low tone so only Brass could hear. 

"Do you think . . ."

Gil shook his head. "I hope not." Amy Henler had killed and buried a body before. Grissom hoped history didn't repeat itself.

Brass cleared his throat, and maybe their worst fears from his mind.

"Kidnapping?"

Gil just raised an eyebrow. He honestly didn't know. They could only hope for the best.

The best, however, tended to be in relative terms.


	2. One Night Stand

**One Night Stand**

Nick's breathing had leveled out, but his knuckles were still white as they gripped the steering wheel. Meanwhile, Amy Henler had settled on soft hiccups instead of sobs as she held the gun towards him.

"Just . . . go west," she'd said. Nick had been doing just that. They passed a sign on the interstate. It wouldn't be long before they were in California.

Nick really didn't want that. His chances of . . . everything were better if they stayed within Nevada. Once they crossed the border, it could mean a mess in terms of jurisdiction.

Of course, Nick was hoping that the rest of the CSIs knew he was being held at gunpoint.

Part of Nick wanted to break the silence as they drove. Maybe he could talk some sense into Mrs. Henler. He'd managed not to get shot so far.

He scowled at himself. Talking to her meant risking upsetting her, and right now, Nick didn't want to see that gun any closer than he had to.

"Slow down," Mrs. Henler said, her voice timid but in control. "You speed like Jason does."

Nick immediately slowed down below the speed limit. He checked the speedometer. If he sped, he'd draw more attention to the car, and maybe someone would see and help and then maybe there would be a car chase and then a crash and then—

Nick shook his head. _Shut up, man._ He kept his speed five under the limit.

"Mrs. Henler," Nick started, his voice a bit shaky. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her jerk the gun up. He tried not to move or startle her into shooting. "I was just wondering how far we were going tonight."

"Tired?" she asked. It wasn't the first concern that came to his mind, but Nick nodded anyway. "Pull over at the next motel you see."

He tried not to breathe out a sigh of relief that was too obvious. There was a motel just ahead. Only ten miles before they entered California. _And not a mile too soon_, Nick thought.

He pulled into the parking lot, and turned off the car. Normally he would have gotten out and gotten a room, but he wasn't running this show. Mrs. Henler stared at him, suddenly worried.

_She doesn't know what to do now._

"Get out, slowly," she ordered softly. "We'll go in together."

Nick obeyed, and it wasn't long before Mrs. Henler was close to him, the gun jabbed into his side.

The clerk behind the desk wasn't really awake, or sober, but he noticed that they wanted a room.

"How're you payin'?" he asked. Nick automatically reached for his wallet.

_Why are you paying? Stop being a gentleman! _But he felt the pressure from the gun increase, and Nick handed over a credit card.

He was glad Mrs. Henler didn't object to that. It might just help him.

The room was far from roomy, but it could have been worse. Mrs. Henler pushed him inside gently with the gun, and quickly locked, bolted and chained the door. Nick stood still in the middle of the room with his hands slightly raised by his sides.

They stared at each other, neither knowing what to do. Inadvertently, Nick's eyes wandered to the beds, and immediately he was glad there were two.

Nick cleared his throat nervously. "Um, do you mind if I, uh, use the . . ."

Mrs. Henler started to nod, but stopped herself. She quickly moved behind him and checked the bathroom, never lowering her gun from Nick's body.

"Okay," she said. Nick nodded, and moved into the bathroom.

The tiny facility lent nothing that he could use to escape. There was a window, but the size of an air vent. Aside from the soap, plastic cups and towels, Nick had nothing to use to defend himself.

He frowned and sighed as he opened the door.

Mrs. Henler was waiting.

"On the floor please," she said. Nick thought it was odd she said 'please.' There certainly wasn't anything polite about the situation.

Nick kept his hands in plain site as he sat down. The floor was hard—no doubt just thin carpet glued directly to concrete. Something caught his attention on one of the beds. There were strips of white fabric, the bed sheets probably. Mrs. Henler picked one up.

"Lie down," she said. "Put your arms up, above your head." Nick frowned, but complied. As soon as he lay on his side, Mrs. Henler knelt by him. She quickly grabbed his hands and wound the torn sheet around his wrists. Nick winced as she tied them in a knot, inadvertently pinching his skin.

He glanced at his hands as she tied the remainder of the sheet to part of the bed frame.

"I'm sorry," he heard her say. "I just can't . . ." She never finished the sentence, but moved to his feet. She grabbed another strip of the bed sheets and tied his feet together and to the end of the bed frame. She moved to stand up after that, but then stopped. Mrs. Henler reached for another strip of fabric, and knelt by his head again.

She hesitated, the sheet in her hands, as she stared into his eyes.

"What—" Nick started to ask. She cut him off with the sheet, deftly pulling it over his mouth and behind his head. She pulled on it again, and the sheet moved between Nick's teeth. She tied it tightly, and Nick fought not to gag on the fabric.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "Please don't make any noise." With a last look over him, Amy Henler disappeared into the bathroom.

Nick let his head fall back against the floor. _Great_, he thought. He wasn't sure how to get out of this, but the use of his hands would help. He started wiggling his arms and wrists, trying to loosen the bindings.

After five minutes, they still didn't budge. The shower was running still, so Nick figured he had a few more minutes. His eyes darted back and forth around him, trying to find something to help.

Suddenly his eyes fell on a phone line. The cord led to the nightstand between the beds. Nick's eyes lit up. Not that he could talk, but he could at least call 911. The cord was close, just behind the nightstand. He stretched his fingers out, and tried to move his body closer. The bindings at his feet didn't allow it, but Nick tried anyway.

His fingertips brushed the plastic cord. _So close_. He flexed his hands out and—

He pulled back and the telephone suddenly came crashing down on him. Nick shut his eyes and hoped it wouldn't hit him too hard. He smiled when he opened his eyes. The phone was off the hook, and just waiting for instruction.

Suddenly the bathroom door swung open. Amy Henler was drying her hair with a towel, until she saw him. She quickly grabbed the gun and rushed to his side.

"No!" she hissed at him. She yanked the phone away, quickly ripping the cord from the wall. "How could you!"

_How could I? _Nick almost snorted at that, but Amy was by his side, the gun very near his face.

"Don't ever do that!" she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "I trusted you!" Her hands were shaking, and all Nick could focus on was the bobbling nozzle of the gun. Nick fought the urge to panic, though his lungs instantly went into overdrive.

Suddenly, she pulled the gun away, and grabbed the last strip of fabric. She wound it around Nick's eyes and head, blinding him. Again, she tied it tight, enough that Nick groaned as it was given a final yank. He felt her recheck his hands and the gag, and also his feet.

"Please don't make me hurt you," she said. It was a soft request, and in it, Nick could hear desperation. There was silence, except for the sounds of her breathing. She was still by his side, and Nick could tell she was watching him. He tried to cover up his quick breath and just lie still.

"What's your name?"

It was a ridiculous question, and she must have realized she shouldn't expect an answer. Nick heard a rustle of her clothes, and then felt her hands on his waist. Her fingers seemed to creep over his hips. Nick tried not to shudder.

_My wallet_, he thought with limited relief as she slipped it from his back pocket.

"Hmm." Nick wondered what she found interesting, but just listened. "I know you introduced yourself when you and your partner came to our house," Mrs. Henler said. "I didn't really catch your name then, but I didn't think it was Nick."

He heard his wallet almost snap shut as she closed it. It was shoved back into his pocket, and then the bed next to him creaked.

"Get some rest, Nick Stokes."

* * *

The SUVs carrying the CSIs were silent inside. Catherine and Warrick sat in one as Brass, Grissom and two officers rushed to the front desk of the motel.

"Her car is here," Warrick said into a walkie.

"Hopefully Nick is too," they heard Sara say back over the radio from the other SUV.

The patrol cars' lights flashed, the red and blue lights rotating and creating a nice strobe-like effect on the small motel building.

From the car, Catherine could see Brass hold up the two photos, one of Nick and the other of Amy Henler. Catherine prayed that they'd find Nick here, alive.

* * *

He didn't know how he fell asleep on that insanely hard floor, but it didn't last. Someone shook him awake, violently, and ripped his blindfold off.

"Get up, now!" It was Mrs. Henler. She knelt over Nick again, this time tugging furiously at the bindings on his wrists. Suddenly she lurched backwards as they gave.

She quickly grabbed her gun and leveled it at him.

"Untie yourself, quickly!" she hissed. Nick tried to obey, but he was a bit disoriented. For some reason, all these lights were flashing outside.

His eyes widened as it dawned on him why.

_They're here. _His hopes soared as he quickly untied his hands and feet. Mrs. Henler was on her feet, peeking out the window as Nick worked on his gag.

_Should I yell? _It wasn't a bad idea, except for that gun.

"Come on," Amy said, motioning for him to come to her. Nick wasn't wild about that, but she raised the gun as incentive.

* * *

Sara drummed her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. She itched to get out of this car and storm whatever room Amy Henler was in.

She sat up straight as Brass, Grissom and the officers emerged from the front desk. Grissom raised his hand at the SUV, a firm stop sign that ticked Sara off. So she watched.

They moved to a room near the end of the building. All the rooms exited to the parking lot, and this one was no exception. Sara held her breath as the officers broke through the door. She watched Grissom closely, hoping for some sign, maybe a smile or relief.

He came out of the room quickly, with no relief but instead more tension. He looked around wildly, as if he expected to see Amy Henler close by.

Sara jumped out of the SUV, and heard Warrick and Catherine not far behind.

"What is it?" Sara shouted to her boss.

He didn't answer, but continued to scan the area with his eyes. He frowned, and Sara felt ill.

She swallowed and sternly walked to the motel room. _Process._

The room was dark, no doubt how it was left. There was no body, and that relieved Sara to no end.

Until she saw the ripped sheets. She adjusted the gloves on her hands, and grabbed evidence bags.

The sheets were in long strips. They were wrinkled, creased. One of the strips was damp. Sara swabbed it and bagged the strip.

Catherine started scouring the bathroom, and Warrick took Henler's car.

Suddenly Sara heard shouts outside. She dropped the evidence bags and ran outside.

The police officers were frantically calling on their radios, while Gil and Warrick stared at the dark and empty roads in both directions. That's when Sara saw what was wrong.

One of the SUVs was gone.


	3. Process

**Process**

Greg yawned as the printer spit out results. His coffee was calling to him, but he didn't dare get a fresh cup. Warrick and Grissom hovered over him as he studied the results.

"Saliva," Greg said.

Warrick held up the sheet. "A gag, maybe?"

Grissom nodded. "Whose, Greg?" As if on cue, the printer spit out another sheet of paper.

"DNA matches the epithelials on the other pieces," Greg answered incompletely. "And they both match . . ." He picked up a personnel file. "Nick."

Grissom spun on one heel and stormed out the door. Warrick didn't look to happy either, but glanced at Greg. They both sighed.

* * *

"We've alerted all our guys throughout the state, Gil," Brass said, trying to calm the man. "They're looking for the SUV, for Nick and for Amy Henler. It's just a matter of time."

"You don't know that they'll stay in Nevada," Grissom said quickly. "If she's smart at all, she'll leave the state as soon as possible."

Brass held up a hand to slow his counterpart down. "I've already told California Highway Patrol, as well as New Mexico, Utah and Arizona. Do you want me to call the Feds too?"

Gil glared at him. Who ever wanted the Feds involved?

"Just let me know what you find," Gil said. "Does her husband know where she's going?"

Brass just stared at him. Grissom sighed, and left as quickly as he'd come.

* * *

They got lucky. Correction. _Amy_ got lucky. How no one saw them, Nick didn't understand. If it was always that easy to get to the CSIs' cars, or steal them, he was going to have to bring that up in the next staff meeting.

The SUV was more comfortable to drive. It was normal for Nick, and he almost felt as such, until he remembered the gun in Amy Henler's hands.

She hadn't relaxed since they left Nevada, and that was two hours ago. She kept looking in the sideview mirror and over her shoulder. Nick just wished she'd actually see something, someone coming to help him.

"Mrs. Henler," Nick said quietly, "we're around LA. Is there anywhere you want me to stop?"

She didn't answer, and Nick glanced away from the freeway. She stared at him. Her fists were tight, especially around that gun. Nick swallowed.

"How did they find us, Nick?" she asked.

"I don't know—"

"Exit here, now!" she suddenly yelled. Nick tried not to jerk the wheel, but he exited. "Turn right. Into that parking lot."

Nick obeyed. The parking lot was deserted, which was to be expected on the fringes of town at 4 in the morning. Amy yanked the keys from the ignition and glared at Nick. She raised the gun at him.

"How did they find us." The shyness was gone. She wasn't just asking anymore.

"Mrs. Henler," Nick started, "take it easy, ple—" He yelped. She struck him with the gun, hitting his jaw.

"Tell me, Nick!" She cocked the gun and pressed it to his head. Nick felt that prickle of water in his eyes. He blinked quickly.

"The credit card," he said. "They can trace credit cards if you use them." He didn't dare look at her, but it was silent for a full minute. He just tried to shut out the throbbing in his jaw.

"You knew that, didn't you?" she asked, her voice a whisper now. "You did it on purpose."

Nick didn't answer her. He didn't need to.

"Climb over the seat, Nick," Amy ordered, that control resurfacing. "In the back, now!"

Nick felt fear run through him. He'd ticked her off. He stumbled over the driver seat. Just as he turned around to face her from the backseat, he saw her hand and the gun come down on him again.

It turned black after that.

* * *

He vaguely remembered moving, or stumbling, out of the car. His head felt like it was going to blow up.

He could feel someone holding him up, helping him along. A blast of sunlight hit him in the eyes. Nick quickly shut his eyes and moved along blindly.

The sunlight subsided, and Nick saw he was inside.

_Another motel room._ Mrs. Henler led him to the bed, and Nick just dropped down on it.

He groaned. He rubbed his head, and felt a rough patch of skin, almost like a scab.

She was doing something to his hands, Nick could tell. He didn't know what—he wasn't trying to focus on anything.

It wasn't long before he let go and sleep overcame him.

* * *

Jason Henler seemed more nervous now than when he was a murder suspect. Who could blame him? His wife was out on a crime rampage.

Grissom stared at the man from across the interrogation room. He almost felt sorry for him. The man had loved Faye Green, and Amy killed her. Now his wife was into kidnapping, it seemed, and he was dealing with the fallout.

But so was Nick, and so close to danger that none of them could really imagine. Gil continually hoped that Amy wouldn't kill his CSI.

Catherine tapped on the glass, motioning for Gil to come out.

"Excuse me," he said. Catherine held up a folder as he met with her.

"Psych profile," she said. "From her therapist, who knew nothing about the murder."

Grissom took the file in hand and opened it. "Sum it up for me," he said.

"Basically," Catherine began, "Amy Henler has issues she's been trying to deal with, probably the murder, guilt and her husband. But she's never seemed outright psychotic."

Gil raised an eyebrow. "So . . ."

"The shrink thinks she can be reasoned with. She's not completely out of control, but lots of stress could trigger an irrational response."

"Great," Gil said, "she's like anyone else, but holding Nick hostage." Catherine shrugged.

"So where do you think they are?" she asked.

"California. It was the closest from the motel, and it's huge. She could easily hide there." Grissom sighed. "We may have to use the press on this."

Catherine's eyes grew wide. Grissom never used the press unless there was no other way. He just nodded, and went back into the interrogation room.

* * *

Nick felt something dab at his head. He moaned and flinched away. It stung, whatever it was.

"Nick," he heard someone call softly. Slowly he opened his eyes. There sat Amy Henler, leaning over him with a damp washcloth in hand. "Sorry. This may sting a bit." She moved towards him. Nick jerked back with his whole body.

He was stopped short. His hands were tied above him again, this time to the cheap headboard. His feet were just bound together. It frightened him. He pulled at the restraints, panicking.

"Nick, stop it!" Mrs. Henler had the gun aimed at him. She'd backed away, probably startled by his sudden movements. Nick lay still, but his mind raced.

_How long have I been out?_ _What happened?_ Just as soon as he thought that, he remembered the incident in the car. She'd been upset.

"Are you going to calm down?" she asked, taking a step towards him.

_No_, Nick thought, but he nodded just the same.

"Okay," she said. She put the gun down on a small table across the room, and sat by him on the bed. The washcloth in hand again, she leaned in to dab where she'd hit him.

Nick winced.

"Sorry," she said again. "I got some ice. I thought it might help." She dabbed at the side of his head once more, then moved away for the ice bucket. Nick watched as she grabbed a handful of ice and placed it inside the washcloth. She wrapped it up and pressed the compact to his head.

He couldn't stop himself from flinching, but the cold did seem to help his head.

"You can talk, you know," Amy said, a bit playfully. Nick raised an eyebrow at that. He cleared his throat.

"What do you want me to say?" He could think of a long string of four letter words, but he refrained.

She sighed and took away the ice. Nick almost objected, but let it go. "Fine. I'll ask questions. First, can the police trace the license plate of that car, even here?"

_Down to business_, Nick thought with a smirk. Amy got up and put the ice on the table. Her eyes flickered to the gun.

Nick frowned.

"Yes," he answered reluctantly. "If they trace the tags, they'll know it was stolen."

"So what do I do?" she asked next. She leaned her weight on the table, her hand just inches from the gun. Nick sighed.

"Change the tags. Park next to a similar car, and grab their plates," Nick said. "But it's not a guarantee."

Amy titled her head to one side. "Why not?"

He stared at the ceiling, refusing to look at her while he fed her information. "Because they'll be looking for you. It's only a matter of time."

That seemed to sober her up. She was quiet as she chewed on what Nick said.

"You know, I should probably dye my hair," Mrs. Henler said. "You too."

Nick's gaze shifted to her, boring into her. "You are not dying my hair." She smiled and shrugged.

"They'll be looking for you too, Nick," she said. "Why not?"

Nick measured his tone carefully and stared hard at her. "Because there's more for you to worry about than the color of my hair if I'm out in public."

Her eyes narrowed at him, but she didn't threaten him, for once. Suddenly her features lightened.

"You remind me of my husband," she said. Nick froze, automatically not liking where this was going.

"Mrs. Henler—"

"Why don't you call me Amy?" she asked. "It's not like I'm Mrs. Robinson." As soon as she said that, Nick gulped. Reading between the lines, he suddenly felt very vulnerable.

"Um, I'd like to use the bathroom, please," Nick said quickly. She just watched him for a moment before moving to untie him.

He took a shower, and let the hot water pelt his skin. It soothed him. As the water ran over him, he tried to convince himself that he could get out of this. He was stronger than she was, easily. He could surprise her, take the gun.

_It's too risky._ Besides, he wasn't used to this type of thing. Before yesterday, he hadn't ever faced the barrel of a gun. Not even his time on the force in Texas had put him through anything like this.

_And being a CSI was supposed to be safer_, he thought to himself with a sly grin. That was one of his arguing points with his parents. Not that it'd made a difference—they still took it personally when he moved.

Nick shook his head, sending a spray of water onto the walled shower stall. _Could I really do it?_ He didn't want to get hurt—whoever did?—and certainly didn't want to die.

That's what really scared him.

Well, that and what Amy Henler might do. Something about her, beyond the threats, bothered him. She'd obviously been hurt by her husband, and she'd been suffering for five years already under her own guilt. _How much more can she take before she cracks?_ Nick sighed and turned the shower off.

He just wanted to get away.


	4. Accusations

a/n: some of you can tell there are more chapters posted, but can't get to them. If so, go to the url, and type in the correct chapter number at the end of the URL. It's the second to last character, followed by a /. Good luck!

**Accusations**

She left him tied up in the room to go get some food and essentials. It frustrated Nick to no end, being helpless and unable to do anything. She'd gagged him again, and Nick found that cheap headboard held up better than he wanted it to.

He sighed into the gag. He'd already tried yelling, but the gag muffled it. So he just waited now.

When Amy returned at dusk, she had several bags with her. She wore a pleased smile, like a happy housewife instead of murderer and kidnapper.

"I've got some good food," she said. "You must be starving." She scurried around the room, unpacking the plastic bags. Nick watched her, and took note of what she bought.

Some cereal, fruit, pudding, juice . . . hair dye, which Nick noticed with a grimace, and also some clothes. She folded the clothes, jeans and a few shirts, which she set aside. She reached into another bag, revealing a pack of boxers, a couple of t-shirts and a pair of jeans.

"What do you think?" she asked, holding up a light blue t-shirt. "Oh, sorry." She dropped the shirt and went for his gag.

Nick just stared between her and the shirt.

"Um, Mrs. Henler," he started, "thanks for the clothes and all, but how long do you expect this to go on?"

She just blinked at him until it sunk in what he was asking. A sour expression clouded her delicate features. She ran a hand through her dark hair, pushing back her long bangs.

"I don't know," she said, her eyes looking off into her own thoughts. "I hadn't planned this."

"I know," Nick said. "But this has to end sooner or later."

"Why?" she shot back, a little upset by his reasoning. "Why does this have to end?"

Nick balked at that. "You can't hide for the rest of your life. And I can't live tied to a bed for the rest of my life either."

She pursed her lips together as she looked over him. "I'll untie you, if you promise not to leave."

Nick swallowed eagerly. _Sure, that'll work._ He nodded.

"I promise," he said. She stared at him, studying him, judging him. Nick tried not to squirm.

"Okay." She leaned over him, a little more than necessary. Nick quickly averted his eyes to the side. As soon as his hands were free, Nick almost leapt into action. He had to remind himself that his feet were tied.

Amy stepped away and let Nick untie his feet. She hadn't gone for the gun yet, but it was within her reach. She watched him carefully.

Nick rubbed his wrists and stretched his body. Being in that position wasn't comfortable, especially for several hours. He let out a deep breath, and looked to Amy Henler. She seemed too tense. _Not yet_, Nick told himself. He'd have to wait.

"Thank you," Nick said. It brought a faint smile to Amy's lips.

"You're welcome." She brushed aside her hair from her face. "How long have you been a cop?" It was a casual question, even though she still kept close to the gun.

"I'm not really a cop," Nick answered, trying to keep his eyes off the gun. "I'm a crime scene investigator. It's kind of the scientific side of police work."

"Really?" She seemed genuinely surprised. "You just seem more . . . human than that."

Nick smiled. "Than a scientist or a cop?"

She smiled back. "Both." Her eyes lingered on his before Nick looked away. "So where are you from?"

As much as the polite conversation was calming, Nick was still anxious. He put on a neutral face and said: "Texas."

"That explains your accent," Amy said. Nick offered a tight smile. "Is your family still there?"

Nick nodded.

"Are you the only one in Vegas?" she asked next. Again, he just nodded. "You must get lonely." She flashed him a sympathetic smile before turning back to her purchases. She grabbed the hair dye and moved in front of a mirror. Nick's eyes honed in on the gun.

_She's far enough away._

"What do you think? Is this the right color for me?" she asked, not watching him. Nick sprung from the bed and grabbed the gun. Mrs. Henler turned around with a gasp. Nick held the gun up.

"Just stay calm," he said. He didn't feel very calm, but he figured it didn't hurt to say.

"You lied." It came out as a whisper. Nick huffed at that.

"Sorry," he said, but he didn't mean it. Nick sat back on the bed, the gun unsteadily aimed at her. With his other hand, he picked up the phone and dialed 911. An operator picked up.

"Yes," Nick eagerly said into the phone. "My name is Nick Stokes. I need the police at the—" He searched for the motel name and address. _Crap, _he thought. He looked away from Amy to find the address. "—the motel at—"

Suddenly Amy screamed. Nick almost dropped the gun. She lunged at him, tackling him in the chest and nailing him against the headboard. He lost his grip on the gun and the phone as he tried to ward her off.

Amy just screamed again and clawed at Nick. "I trusted you!" She pounded his chest, flailing her arms over him.

Nick caught her by the wrists and pushed her back. His pulse raced at the sudden rage. _Find the gun, quickly!_ His eyes swept over the room, but Amy came at him again. She grabbed the lamp on the nightstand, holding it like a club. Nick tried to stop her, but she came at him fast. They both fell back on the bed. She raised the lamp and slammed it down. Nick warded off the blow with his arms, but the impact still killed.

He pushed her again, throwing her to the side. His breathing was ragged as he fought to control the pain in his forearms. Nick groaned, but his eyes were wide, fearing another attack.

She was sobbing now, babbling too.

"How could you . . ." Nick heard. She sat in a heap on the floor, with tears streaming down her face. Nick sighed and winced as he took a second to catch his breath.

_This isn't over._ Nick pushed himself up, suppressing a pained groan at the pressure on his arms. He searched for the gun, looking under the bed.

He heard a click by Amy. Nick looked up.

She had the gun, aimed at him. He froze, and they just sat there in an uneven standoff.

Suddenly someone banged on the door.

"Police! Open up!"

Nick looked to the door with hope. He glanced back at Amy, unsure of what she'd do. Before he knew what was happening, she ran to the door. She sobbed as she opened it.

"Oh thank you!" she said, throwing her arms around one of the officers. "He gets like this when he doesn't have his pills!"

_WHAT!!_

"Hang on a second!" Nick shouted. "No, please! She's—" The two officers started into the room.

"Sir, we need you to stay calm, all right?" Nick noticed the officer rested his hand on his gun. _This isn't happening_.

"No, she tried to—"

"It was awful!" Amy interrupted, her voice high and shrill with the damsel in distress tone. "This has only happened once before, please! He's not a bad man!"   
"I know I'm not!" Nick yelled. The officer pushed Nick back with one hand until he felt the wall behind him.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to remain calm, or we'll need to discuss this elsewhere," the officer said.

"Fine by me!" Nick said, exasperated. "Get me away from her!" The other officer shot his partner a look. Nick thought he might have gotten through.

But both the officers faced him, their hands unsnapping the closure securing their guns.

"He only hit me once," Amy said, still in tears. "Please, he doesn't normally act like this! I just needed to calm him down!"

"It's okay, ma'am," the officers said in unison. They didn't bother to look at her—instead they kept their eyes trained on Nick.

_They think it's me._ He rolled his eyes. _Just tell them who you are!_ Nick opened his mouth, but froze.

Amy had the gun still. How she'd hidden it from the officers, Nick didn't know, but now she had it aimed at the back of one of the officer's heads. She shot Nick a look, daring him to make this worse.

"Did you hurt her, sir?" one of them asked. The man's face was hard, on edge like he wanted a reason to pummel him.

"Did you hit her?" the other one demanded. Nick looked past him to see Amy glare at him. Nick wanted to cry. _She'll shoot them both before they know what happened._ She moved her finger over the trigger. Nick knew he had to do it.

"I—I didn't mean to," Nick stuttered. Tears prickled his eyes. _I can't . . . I can't just let this happen._ He felt a lump rise in his throat. _I just want out of this._

The officers' faces hardened even more, if possible. They glared at him, and one started to remove his handcuffs. Amy flinched.

_Don't shoot them_, he pleaded as if Amy would listen to him. From behind the officers, she started to lower the gun.

"He really didn't mean it," Amy cried behind them. "Thanks for coming, but please—we're okay now." The gun was out of Nick's view, and the officers didn't see it as they turned to her.

"Ma'am, are you sure?" one asked. "We can take him away, let him calm down at the precinct."

Nick wanted to pipe up in support of that, but he knew he couldn't. A tear fell down his face, and he chastised himself for it.

"I'm sure," Amy said. "Thank you."

The officers' radios squawked. Nick recognized the call—a breaking and entering. They looked to each other and then back at Nick and Mrs. Henler.

"All right," one said.

"Thank you," Amy said a final time. She quickly showed them out, but not before the officers shot Nick looks of death.

Amy locked the door after them. Nick sank to the floor, another tear falling as he did. He clutched his right forearm, which hurt more than the other one. A sob escaped his mouth, but Nick tried to choke it back.

Amy glared at him, and stalked towards him slowly. The gun dangled from her hand. Nick let out a sob-filled sigh. His body tensed as she neared him. _She may just kill you now._

She didn't say a word. Nick didn't either. He didn't want to say the wrong thing. And he didn't trust his voice not to shake.

She grabbed something from one of the bags she'd brought in. It clinked and Nick's heart sank when he saw it. It was a pair of handcuffs. Where one buys a pair, he didn't know. But Amy Henler knelt in front of him, and held the gun and the cuffs up to his face. Her eyes penetrated into his, and Nick slowly nodded.

He took the cuffs and secured them around his wrists.

* * *

Warrick watched the news in the breakroom. This was the second broadcast about Nick. The tip line had come up empty so far, but he still hoped something would turn up. Everyone in Vegas who cared to know would have heard about the missing CSI and the suspected murderer who kidnapped him. 

"The story's just hit California news stations," Sara said behind him. "It should broadcast on all the morning news programs."

Warrick nodded. The anchor woman wrapped up the story on Nick and Amy Henler. He sighed.

"Now we just wait," he said. Sara nodded.

"I hate waiting."

* * *

"You're not going to believe this," Brass said. Grissom hated it when he began a conversation this way. "LAPD just called. Two of their officers saw Nick and Mrs. Henler." 

"Where!" Grissom was ready to charge out the door and track them down. Brass held up a hand.

"Hang on. They described the situation as a 'domestic disturbance.' With her as the victim. No charges were filed, and they left," Brass said. Gil's jaw dropped.

"Domestic disturbance? Where?"

"A motel in LA," he answered. Gil opened his mouth for a follow-up. "No, they're not there anymore. They've disappeared."

Grissom's mouth curled in a disgusted snarl. "I'm going out there."

Brass nodded. "We all are."

* * *

Catherine and Sara took on the officers who saw Nick and Amy Henler. First off, they showed the officers photos. 

"Was this the man?" Sara pressed. Both officers nodded.

"Yeah." They moved to the next photo. "And that's the woman," one of them said.

"You didn't get their names, or check their records?" Catherine asked skeptically. The two officers looked to each other and then back at the women.

"We got another call. Besides, do you know how many domestic disturbances we get every night?" one of them said. Sara glared at him.

"It didn't dawn on you that there might have been more to it?"

They shrugged. "She didn't want to press charges. It happens all the time," one said. "Besides, she was crying and begging us not to arrest him. He even admitted hurting her."

Catherine and Sara shared a look. It didn't make sense. Why wouldn't Nick tell the police who he was? Or at least get them to check out his story?

"Did you see any evidence of violence?" Catherine asked. The two officers looked to each other, and back at their interrogators.

"Not really," one of them said. "But she was crying, and the guy—"

"_CSI Stokes_," Sara filled in with frustration.

"—_Stokes_ seemed like he could have roughed her up. He was blubbering too, by the time we left, saying how he didn't mean it."

Sara fought the urge to smack the two guys over the head.

"I don't know why he said that," Sara said very slowly, trying to let the words sink into the officers' small brains, "but you just let a murderer get away with a CSI of the Las Vegas PD."

* * *

Gil stood still in the room. It felt . . . eerie. He could almost feel fear. 

Brass stood behind him, giving his friend time to absorb the details. Warrick stood behind as well, just waiting.

There was a lamp on the ground. The shade was rumpled and the metal a bit bent. Gil pointed at it, and Warrick photographed and gathered it.

The garbage cans were sparsely used, but Grissom found a hair dye box. He also found strips of the bed sheets.

_She tied him up again._

Gil sighed.

Something had happened here, but he didn't know what. A thousand scenarios came to mind, but he didn't like any of their outcomes. Not with the details the LAPD gave of the 'domestic disturbance.'

_Why would Nick go along with it? Why play it as a domestic disturbance? If the cops were there, they could have helped him_.

But they didn't. _They assumed she was the victim. And for some reason, Nick played along._

He didn't like this. Any of it. And now, Nick was still missing and at the hands of Amy Henler.

The only consolation he felt was that, as of last night, Nick was still alive and well. He hoped last night's events didn't change that today.

* * *

a/n: Kristen999 mentioned that Nick wasn't your standard cop in Dallas, so I was wrong on that. It doesn't matter for this story much, but my apologies anyway. Also, to me the last name for Amy is 'Henler,' but I've seen 'Hendler' as well. It sounds like Henler to me, so I'll stick with it. Hope you can stand that! 


	5. Feared Consolation

a/n: Just a quick note of thanks for the reviews! I appreciate the feedback and tips, and am glad you all seem to be enjoying this as much as I am.

**Feared Consolation**

They moved to the dinkiest apartment. Nick didn't know how she found this place, but he had to admit it was smart. She paid cash for a month's rent of the scummiest apartment on earth.

It was safer for her. No housekeeping making daily calls. No front desk clerk wondering about them. Just a dark neighborhood that didn't care about what was going on beyond the next room.

Nick's arm still hurt. Bruises developed on both forearms, but his right arm just ached constantly. He grimaced just looking at it.

The handcuffs rattled against a large pipe in the main room as he shifted his body. He was lying down, on the bare and dirty floor. There were limited furnishings, just an old, broken dresser, coffee table, barely-running fridge, and a couple of chairs. The pipe was the most secure and permanent thing. It was Nick's new anchor to captivity.

Amy was gone. He didn't know where she went, or how long she would be gone. It didn't matter. He couldn't go anywhere. Handcuffs were a lot harder to get out of, especially with nothing around to try to pick at them.

He thought about yelling, but the gag was in place again, and it was so noisy around here that he didn't stand a chance. He sighed and rested his head against the hard floor.

She hadn't talked to him since last night. He hadn't spoken either. He figured it was best to see what she would say before he tried anything. But she was obviously mad.

A sharp pain went through Nick's right arm again. He bit down on his lip until the pain subsided.

Suddenly he heard keys rattling outside the door. Nick's body tensed as he waited. _She's back._

She came in with another load of groceries. Nick frowned. _If she's not using her credit cards, how is she paying for all this?_

She could have used an ATM, but that can be traced as well. _They might have frozen her account even._

_Unless she's using something that's only in her husband's name_. Nick shook his head. Whatever she did for cash, it just made it easier for her to stay hidden.

Amy put the bags down on the floor. She never once looked at Nick the whole time she unpacked the bags. He watched though. She'd bought meat, a pan, eggs, bread, milk, frozen veggies . . .

Nick shut his eyes. _She's adjusting to all this. She's going to cook, get back to normal . . ._ _How can she act so normal through all this?_

"Are you hungry?" She didn't look at him, but Nick was surprised she said anything. He _was_ hungry, but part of him didn't want to eat. She finally glanced at him, knowing he couldn't say anything with that gag.

Slowly, Nick nodded, his eyes low and unchallenging. Amy nodded. She walked over to him, and pulled the gag down. Nick licked his lips and swallowed, trying to rid himself of the cotton thread.

"I'll make us something," Amy said. She went back to the small kitchen area and began tinkering about.

Nick just watched. She had a small smile on her face, like she was content. She stepped around lightly, bouncing a bit in her dyed red hair, her jeans and t-shirt. Nick thought he heard her hum even.

Whatever she was making, it smelt good. Nick's stomach growled, reminding him he really didn't get to eat last night, or this morning. _When was the last time I ate?_ He shrugged the thought off. It didn't really matter. He'd had other things to worry about.

She went ahead and ate her food before offering him any. She had the gun out as she tossed him the keys to unlock himself. That was tricky in itself—he had to twist his wrists to unlock the cuffs, but it sent pains through his arm. He grimaced and got through it anyway.

Amy watched him carefully as he ate. Nick didn't look at her at all, but just ate quietly, trying to ignore the gun aimed at him.

"Just like Jason," she commented with a snort. "Never a 'thank you' or 'it's delicious!'" Nick glanced at her.

_Did you keep him chained up as well?_

"Thank you," Nick said instead. Satisfaction crept over her face, and it made Nick's stomach turn. "Amy, what do you plan to do now?"

She cocked her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you've run away from your old life—your husband, Faye Green, the police," Nick said. Her eyes flashed at the mention of Faye, but she let it go as he continued. "What are you going to do?"

She looked away for a second, then back at him.

"I _have_ been thinking about that," she said. She sat down next to him, close enough that her elbow touched him. It made him swallow a chunk of meat prematurely. Nick fought not to cough. "I loved Jason. So much . . . and all this time, I thought he loved me."

Nick's mind flashed to what Jason Henler had admitted in front of him and Grissom and Amy. He'd said he loved Faye Green, even now. In hindsight, that'd probably been the emotional bullet that drove Amy to this.

"But obviously he doesn't. So I've been wasting my life," Amy said. She stopped, thinking and smiling. "Not anymore. I'm going to move on. Make a new life, for me. Whatever makes _me _happy."

Nick stared at her. He'd hoped that somewhere in her plans she would say she would release him. _No such luck._

She stared back, looking deep into his eyes. Nick shifted and looked away.

"You remind me of him," she whispered. Nick tensed until he was stiffer than board. "I know you're not Jason." Nick started breathing again. "No, you seem . . . better."

Nick froze again. He could feel her eyes on him, but Nick didn't dare look at her. His skin tingled, like a rush of goose bumps.

Suddenly she stood up and took his plate. "Why don't you take a shower, change into that blue shirt I bought you?" she said. Her eyes pressed him for some agreement.

Nick nodded and swallowed a lump of anxiety.

* * *

"What've we heard?" Sara asked the group. They were temporarily using the conference room at a LAPD precinct. She slid a file across the table to where Grissom, Catherine and Warrick sat. 

"Nothing," Grissom admitted. "Nothing from the tipline, no sightings, no activity on her credit or debit cards."

"How is she getting around?" Warrick asked the group. "I mean, it's only been a couple of days, but being on the run can be costly." Grissom just shook his head.

"Well," Sara piped up, "Greg just faxed me the results from the second motel room."

Catherine opened the file and started to read aloud.

"Amy Henler and Nick's fingerprints everywhere . . . Nick's saliva on the gag, and his epithelials on the other cloths . . . Amy's prints on the lamp, but only Nick's epithelials . . ." She looked up from the file. "Were Nick's prints on the lamp unusable?"

Sara shook her head. "No, Greg was very clear about that," she said. "The only prints on the lamp were Mrs. Henler's."

"Then how did Nick's skin get on the lamp?" Warrick questioned.

"Weapon of opportunity?" Grissom offered. Warrick shook his head.

"There's no blood," he said. Grissom shot him a look.

"Warrick, not all weapons draw blood," he said. He shook his head though, as the image of Nick injured entered his mind. "Where are we on the cops' story?"

Catherine sighed. "They say Nick admitted to hurting Mrs. Henler, and then that she begged them not to arrest him."

Warrick snorted. "Yeah, if they arrested him, Nick would have been safer."

"That just doesn't make sense to me," Sara said, pressing her palms into the table as she thought about the situation. "Why would Nick do that? Why wouldn't he get them to help, even if the cops thought he was the bad guy?"

The four CSIs sat in silence as that question played repeatedly in their minds.

* * *

Nick fought a shiver as he lay on the floor. It was dark outside, but enough moonlight showed through the window to let Nick know it was the first hours of the day. It wasn't too cold yet, and this was Los Angeles—it never got unbearable. But that blue t-shirt that Mrs. Henler had Nick wear didn't provide much warmth. 

That, and the closest thing to a blanket that he had was the dirt on the hard floor.

He wanted to wrap his arms around his chest to preserve his body heat. The cuffs, though, kept him uncomfortable. His wrists were starting to chaff against the metal, and any movement still made his right arm ache.

He sighed miserably to himself.

His mind turned to Faye Green. _She was killed in a rage, because Amy was jealous._ It wasn't a new crime, but that didn't make it any better for the victim. Nick thought about Faye's mother, how worried and lonely she was. She'd spent five years wondering what became of her daughter. She probably thought Faye was dead, but just the uncertainty made it impossible to move on.

_How can you move on without the truth?_

Nick felt a shiver win him over. He immediately tensed his body, trying to prevent an onslaught of cold.

_Will anyone be able to move on while I'm gone? _It was a morbid thought, and maybe a bit egotistical. But he wondered . . . _How long will it take before they start to lose hope?_ His family. His friends. Would they keep searching for him?

_Will I still be alive when they find me?_

He told himself that he couldn't think like that. Mrs. Henler's actions, murdering Faye Green, had to be spur of the moment. Nick didn't think it was premeditated.

_But what about now? She knows what she's doing, for the most part. _

Nick shut his eyes, and let out a slow breath.

"Can't sleep?"

Nick jerked at that. His eyes flew open to see Amy standing in the room's doorway. She was dressed in a pajama set, flannel, Nick guessed.

"It's a little cold in here," he said between clenched teeth. Amy frowned, and disappeared for a few moments.

She returned with a comforter. She fluffed it up and let it fall over him. Nick instantly relished the shield it provided from the chill.

Nick was about to thank her for it when she sat on the ground next to him, and slid under the comforter. He jerked again when her body brushed against his. He tried scooting away, but Nick could only go so far.

"What?" Amy asked. She looked at him, her eyes concerned and confused.

"Uh . . ." _How do I say this?_ Nick fought a blush that instantly warmed his face and ears. "The blanket is enough. You don't need to stay here."

She started to smile coyly—maybe even seductively. "I only have one, Nick. We can share it."

He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Mrs. Henler inched closer to him, resting her head on his right shoulder. It pulled down on the cuffs and his arm. Nick groaned.

"Please," he whispered, more because he was trying to block out the pain. "Just get away from me."

He didn't see the shock on her face. He hadn't been that blunt to her yet. But she reacted.

She grabbed his arm, yanking on it to pull herself to her feet. Nick yelped between clenched teeth as needles of agony went through his forearm and seemed to spread to the rest of him.

He rolled to the side, trying to shake off some of the pain. He barely registered the comforter being pulled away as he groaned into the floor boards.


	6. Listen

**Listen**

Catherine had way too much coffee, even for 4 a.m., Sara thought. It had to have been eight cups already. She speed-walked into the conference room, where the other CSIs stared blindly at the limited information they had.

"I've got something," Catherine said. Instantly, the other three sat up straight in their chairs.

"Okay," Catherine began, "we've been tracking the banks and credit cards for Amy Henler. Also for Jason Henler, and anything they shared, right?"

They all nodded.

"But, Jason has another account—a company credit card that allows cash withdrawals," Catherine said, a proud smile beaming at them. "I talked to Jason. He says he didn't realize it till I asked him about it, but it's missing."

"Has it been used?" Grissom asked with bare patience. Catherine just smiled and slid a file across the table to him.

Sara and Warrick instantly flanked him, peering over the file.

"These purchases are all in the LA area," Warrick said.

"Not only that," Catherine said, "but most are within two miles of each other."

* * *

Amy was miffed. She scurried around the apartment, tidying things and making breakfast. She didn't offer any to him. She was definitely ticked about last night.

Nick followed her with his eyes. She kept glancing at him, shooting him looks as she moved. Every time her eyes met his, she would turn her head away and practically put her nose in the air.

Nick rolled his eyes. _No wonder Jason Henler wanted Faye._

Amy grabbed her purse. She tucked her gun into it with a glare to Nick.

"Amy," he said.

She just ignored him and started for the door.

"Amy."

This time she stopped but didn't turn towards him.

"I'm sorry," he said. There it was, and it hung in the air a few moments before she faced him.

Her eyes lighten until even her whole face seemed brighter. Slowly a smile spread over her features.

"I'll be back in a few hours," she said by way of goodbye. Nick's heart lurched.

"Amy!"

She stopped and waited for what he had to say.

Nick stammered for the right way to say this, but it failed him. He felt his pulse race and emotion tug at his voice.

"Let me go." Amy gasped, but Nick hurried to plead his case. "Please, Amy. Whatever pain Jason caused . . . I'm not part of that." She started to turn away and ignore him, but Nick tried harder. "Please! Amy, I have to go back to my life. You can't keep me here forever."

_Damn_, he thought as tears moistened his eyes. He hated it when he cried. It wasn't often but he always felt like crap because of it. He swallowed hard, and just waited for Amy to say something.

She saw his tears. For a moment, she seemed sympathetic.

"Do you remember what you told me, back at my house?" she asked. Nick slowly shook his head. He'd said whatever he needed to stay alive. "You said you were a good listener."

He nodded, but didn't see where she was going with this.

"Are you really, Nick?" she asked. "Haven't you been listening?" Amy stalked towards him, and picked up a cloth from the dinky coffee table. She stared at him, pressuring him for an answer.

"Yes," Nick said, to both questions. Amy smiled.

"I've been telling you what I need, Nick," she said. And with a shrug, she added, "I need you."

She quickly knelt by him and pulled the cloth over his mouth. She tied it tightly behind his head, and then spun around on one heel and left the apartment. The door slammed shut and rattled the walls and floor.

Nick shut his eyes as desperation seized him.

* * *

Warrick left the small grocery store, the picture of Amy and Nick in his hands. The clerk recognized Amy, but nothing more.

He checked his list of places where Amy had purchased something. It looked like a clothing store was next.

Sara moved on to the next person she saw.

"Excuse me," she said, shoving the pictures of Amy and Nick into the stranger's view. "Have you seen either of these people?"

The man shook his head and brushed by her.

Sara bit her lip and cut off a woman and her two kids.

"Ma'am, have you seen this man or woman?" she asked. The woman shook her head and tightened her grips on her kids' hands.

Sara watched them hurry away. She sighed and turned to the next person she could intercept.

* * *

"Grissom," Catherine called out across the street. She glanced at the oncoming traffic and darted across the road.

"Yeah," he said, not looking up from the paper in his hands.

"Brass just called," she said. "He said he was going to have the credit card company freeze the account."

Gil's head jerked up to face her. "No, don't do that."

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

Gil shot her a look. "If she sees her credit card is denied, she'll get spooked and run again. We're too close right now."

"I'll call him back," Catherine said.

* * *

"Hey hold up," Sara said. She was past the point of politeness. The teenage kid stopped, a glare in his eyes. Sara thrust the photos in his face. "Have you seen them?"

The kid proceeded to glare at her, but finally looked. He started to shake his head, and Sara turned away.

"Hey wait!" he said. Sara turned back with a tired sigh. "I don't live around here. Ask Jake." He pointed down the street where a group of teens sat wasting the day.

She nodded. "Thanks."

The group eyed her as she approached. Sara swallowed but kept her resolve plastered to her face.

"'Sup?" one of them asked.

"You guys seen either of them?" Sara asked, holding up the photos again. The guys looked to each other, and Sara could see they weren't going to be much help.

"What'd they do?" the leader asked.

Sara squinted at them. "Are you Jake?" He nodded, but waited for an answer. "Kidnapped," she said shortly.

Jake seemed impressed by that, though she didn't know why. "He was kidnapped, not her, right?" he said, pointing to Nick's picture.

Sara frowned. _No one guesses that normally._ "How did you know?"

Jake shrugged. "No way is that girl kidnapped. She's out too much for that."

Sara's heart picked up pace. "Do you know where she stays? When did you see her last?"

Jake and his friends laughed.

"Calm down, lady," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "I don't know where she lives. But I've seen her walk around that place the last couple of days." He pointed across the street to a run-down building.

Sara turned to the teens. "Thank you!"

She whipped out her phone as she dashed across the street.

* * *

Gil braked hard as soon as he saw Sara waiting outside the building. Catherine had to brace herself against the dash. She shot her boss a look before jumping out of the car.

"This is it?" Gil asked, locking the car. He heard a couple of cars screech to a halt behind him. One of them had Warrick, the other a LAPD cruiser with two cops.

"I talked with the super," Sara said, showing everyone inside the run-down place. "He doesn't recognize Nick or Mrs. Henler."

"Is he reliable?" Grissom asked. Sara winced and pointed to an office. Grissom let himself in.

The super was stretched back into a loose office chair. The first thing other than his unkempt appearance that struck Grissom was the smell.

_Alcohol_. The super's eyelids were heavy.

Gil fought the urge to smack the guy. He held up the photos for the guy to see.

"Seen them?"

The super just shrugged. He didn't seem nervous to see these strangers or cops in his office.

"We'll need to see every apartment then," Gil said. That got the super's attention.

"You can't—"

Gil didn't let him finish. He left the office, his pulse racing with his anger. He started banging on the first door he came upon. He failed to see the looks Sara, Warrick and Catherine shared behind his back.

Someone answered the door, which was still chained. Grissom slipped the photo through the crack.

"Have you seen these people?"

The photo was pushed back through the door and the door shut.

Gil whirled around to face his CSIs.

"Spread out. If you come to an empty or unresponsive apartment, get LAPD to call it," he instructed gruffly. They all nodded, including the LAPD officers backing them up.

* * *

Nick lifted his head from the floor. There was a lot of noise throughout the building. More than usual, anyway.

Someone was shouting down the hall. Then a slammed door. . . .

He sighed, and laid his head back down.

* * *

"Are we sure we have the right building?" Warrick asked Sara. She shrugged.

"No, but this is a place to start." She knocked on another door, and heard someone yell something in another language from behind the door. Warrick laughed.

He knocked on a door down the hall.

No one yelled. He leaned closer to the door, expecting to hear footsteps.

"I've got no answer here," Warrick said. Sara stopped mid-air from knocking on the next door.

"I'll tell LAPD," she said, and rushed off. It didn't mean much. They'd already found three apartments that weren't answering. Without a warrant, they couldn't go in—Warrick doubted it meant more than no one was home.

He knocked again.

* * *

Fear was his first reaction. Nick dreaded her being back already. Sure, it'd been a few hours, and he was more than ready to have the cuffs removed for a bit, even if it meant having a gun aimed at him.

His wrists stung anytime he moved, so Nick stayed himself as the noise outside the apartment continued.

But then someone knocked.

_It's not Amy_. Relief flooded Nick. _Wait. Then who is it?_

He didn't know, but he tried to yell.

He scowled into the gag. He couldn't project more than the muffled sounds he made. Nick shouted again, but still it was lost in the ambient noise.

Someone knocked again.

"Hello?!" he heard. "LAPD. Open up, please!"

His eyes widened. _They're here!_ Instinctively, Nick shouted into the gag, over and over, trying to get their attention.

* * *

"We'll have to wait for the warrant," the officer said. "Maybe the judge will come back with one that covers the whole building."

Warrick nodded, but held his doubts. "Okay," he said. "I'm going to keep trying the rest of this floor."

The officer nodded and turned away.

Suddenly they heard a knock. But it wasn't a knock—it was like a bump. Warrick turned around to face the apartment. The officer had heard it too, and came back to the door.

They leaned towards the door, listening.

_Thump!_ _Thump thump thump._ It was like someone was kicking the wall.

Warrick pounded on the door. "Is anyone in there!"

Two thumps answered them.

"Break the door," Warrick said to the officer. "We have probably cause to go in." He turned down the hall and yelled to the other CSIs. "We've got something!"

* * *

Catherine ran down the stairs to the third floor where Warrick bellowed from. She heard the thundering footsteps of her colleagues as well as they all hurried to see what Warrick had found.

She raced down the hall in time to see the LAPD officers getting ready to break the door.

"On three," one said to the other. Their guns were drawn as one was poised to kick in the door, and she and Warrick moved to the side for them to work.

"One."

"Two."

"Three!"

_Bang!_ The door flew open upon impact, and the officers charged in with their guns raised.

Catherine beat Warrick to the doorway.

"He's here!" the officers shouted.

There, lying on the floor and handcuffed to a pipe, was Nick. Catherine would never forget it.

His eyes were so hopeful that they showed how low he'd been. The gag over his mouth looked tight enough to leave indentations in his skin, but that seemed to be the least of Nick's concerns.

Catherine dashed to his side as the officers unlocked the cuffs. Her eyes flickered to his wrists. They were cut from the restraints, and the flesh around the cuts were raw and inflamed. She saw a brief grimace as the officers took off the cuffs.

She went for the gag.

"Nicky," she said, "you're okay." He nodded as she fumbled with the knot.

"Just cut it off," Warrick said impatiently from behind her. He knelt down and produced a knife. "Hold still, man." Nick obeyed as Warrick slipped a pocketknife below the gag and cut it. "Good to see you, Nick."

Nick swallowed a few times and licked his lips.

"You too, 'Rick."

"Nick!"

Everyone turned to the door to see Grissom and Sara taking in the sight. Catherine smiled.

Nick was okay.


	7. Justice

**Justice**

He was smothered with attention, and for some reason, it reminded Nick of when he played sick to get out of school as a kid.

The CSIs surrounded him on all sides, with each lending a hand to support him. He wasn't sure why—his legs worked fine. In fact, it felt good to walk after being tied down all the time.

Sara took Nick by his right arm, making him yelp. He quickly clenched his teeth to muffle the noise, but all the CSIs noticed. Sara immediately let go of him.

"Nick?"

He shook his head. "Sorry," he said. "It's just sore."

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Grissom said, leading the group to the street. "We're stopping by the hospital."

Nick was smart enough not to argue.

Sunlight hit his eyes as they moved towards the cars. Nick squinted at first, but the feel of it . . . the light, the warmth . . .

He smiled, and got in the car.

* * *

"You have a fracture in your forearm," the ER doctor told Nick. Beside him, Grissom and Warrick nodded along. "I'd like to put a cast on it. However, that'll cover up the cut, and that needs to be bandaged for just a couple of days."

Nick glanced at his wrists. They looked ugly, to put it bluntly. "So . . ." Nick prompted.

The doctor reached into a cabinet and pulled out a stiff brace. "This'll have to do till then." He looked to Grissom and Warrick. "Make sure he wears this all the time, or his arm won't heal correctly."

The CSIs nodded sternly and shot warning glances to Nick. He rolled his eyes.

"If it'll make it stop hurting, I'll wear it—trust me," he said.

The ER doctor smiled briefly. "How'd this happen?" He reached for Nick's arm, and started feeling the bone. Nick bit down hard on his tongue. "I need to get the bone aligned," the doctor said.

_Thanks for the warning_. Nick braced himself. The doctor tugged once, then again. Nick's eyes started to water. But that was it--the doctor started putting the brace over his arm.

Nick watched the brace closely, wincing as the doctor strapped it on tightly.

"So how did this happen?" the doctor prompted.

"Lamp," he answered. Grissom and Warrick looked to each other.

"It's always the everyday objects," the doctor mused.

Nick smiled tightly. "Tell me about it."

Catherine and Sara were waiting for the guys as they emerged from the ER.

"They got her," Catherine said. Nick almost choked.

"They did?" he asked. Sara nodded along with Catherine.

"Brass waited with LAPD outside the building," Sara said. "They just arrested her on her way in."

Nick shut his eyes for a second and let out a slow breath. He felt relieved. Surprised too. He was sure that she would have seen the police and run. He almost felt sad for her. If she'd really wanted to, she could have run away and started that new life.

_Her mistake was trying to make me part of it._

He shuddered involuntarily, drawing a look from his friends.

"I'm fine," he said quickly.

* * *

The district attorney was already talking about extraditing Mrs. Henler back to Nevada. It'd take a couple of days, but for now she stayed in LAPD custody.

Rumor had it she was severely distraught, screaming and crying a lot. Nick tried not to think about that as they drove back to Las Vegas the next day.

He changed clothes. He'd wanted to shred that blue shirt Amy bought him, but Grissom said it'd be better to hang on to as evidence. It was sitting in a tagged plastic bag in the back of the car now.

They were cautious around him. They spoke to him, but didn't really talk with him. Nick couldn't blame his friends—they just didn't know what to say. Nick figured they didn't want to upset him or bring up unpleasant memories. He appreciated that, but knew it was silly to tiptoe around things that had to come out, if nothing else than for the official record.

"Nick, there's something I've got to know," Grissom said. That caught Catherine's attention, as well as his own. Nick shifted in the passenger seat.

"Okay," he said. He scratched at his arm, just under the suffocating brace.

Grissom took a deep breath, that rare look of caring about being sensitive showing up on his face.

"The police came," he started. "They said it was a domestic disturbance, that you admitted you hurt Mrs. Henler." Gil shook his head, more from the confusion than anything else. "Why did you do that when you could have had them help you?"

The desperation resurfaced as Nick remembered Amy, how manipulative she was—how she convinced the cops she was the victim. How she hide that gun until she could use it best to her advantage.

Fear. He felt it all over again. She really would have pulled the trigger on them. Probably on him too . . .

Nick cleared his throat, well-aware that he'd delayed too long.

"Um, Amy—Mrs. Henler had the gun," Nick said. "The cops never saw it, but they didn't suspect her of anything." He huffed at that, but cleared his throat again. As he spoke, his voice became monotone, and his words automatic. "She had the gun aimed at the back of their heads. They never had a clue. She would have shot them if I hadn't played along."

He saw her, in control. So composed, even at being unstable at the right moment. He felt helpless again as he saw it in his mind.

Catherine laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it and patting him. Nick smiled quickly and swiped at his eyes.

"How long has that kept you awake?" Nick asked, changing the tone playfully. Gil smiled, and Catherine let out a laugh.

"That wasn't the only thing that kept me up," Grissom said. "We haven't slept since you were kidnapped."

Nick frowned and glanced at the steering wheel. "Then why are you driving?" Grissom started to wave him off. "No, seriously. I've had nothing to do but sit or sleep for the last few days. Pull over."

"Nick, Grissom's fine," Catherine said, her motherly side coming out. "You still need to rest."

"Guys, come on," Nick said, looking to each of them. "You've earned it."

Grissom drove for another mile before he pulled over. Nick took them the rest of the way home.

* * *

Brass watched from down the hall as his officers brought Mrs. Henler into the LVPD precinct. Her face was still wet from tears. Jim hadn't seen it dry yet.

The officers didn't take her to interrogation. There was no need. All the evidence pointed to her. No, she was taken directly to a holding cell, until the public defender arrived.

She disappeared from view just as Jason Henler entered the precinct. He saw Brass and came towards him.

"Detective Brass," he greeted morosely. "She's here?" Jim thought it was interesting he didn't say his own wife's name.

Brass nodded. "She's very emotional right now," he said. "We're putting her on 24-hr suicide watch. Just in case." That wasn't very comforting to say, but somehow he thought Jason Henler didn't care about tact anymore—not where Amy was concerned.

Jason nodded slowly. He appeared distraught himself, but more in a self-agonizing way.

"Um, the officer she kidnapped . . ."

"CSI Nick Stokes," Brass filled in.

"Is he okay?" Jason asked. Brass cocked his head to the side. Mr. Henler surprised him. In some ways, he'd expected anger towards Nick or towards anyone involved in this losing situation.

"His injuries were minor," Brass said. "He's back at work already." _Though against everyone's wishes_, he thought with a slight smirk. Jason nodded.

"Could I speak with him?"

* * *

Nick shifted uncomfortably as he sat across from Jason Henler. He had no desire to be there, and his eyes said as much. He avoided Jason's eyes until he realized that made him seem guilty.

_Of what?__ You didn't do anything._

But Mrs. Henler did—and had wanted to get closer. Nick gulped; he felt like he'd broken them apart.

_You didn't. They wouldn't have been together if Faye Green was still alive._

"Mr. Stokes," Jason started. He wrung his hands a bit as he spoke. "I . . . I wanted to apologize, for Amy."

Nick wasn't sure if he was supposed to say anything, but Jason looked like he had more to say.

"I never knew . . . that she was capable of . . ." He substituted the critical word with a gulp of his own. He coughed, and offered Nick a weak smile. "Are you all right?"

Nick nodded. "I'm fine, Mr. Henler."

Jason lowered his eyes to the table top. "Did she—did she hurt you . . . or treat you badly?"

Nick wasn't sure how to tackle that one. _What do you say to the suffering husband about his criminal wife's behavior?_ He knew there was more than injury that Jason implied. _Which makes me wonder if he saw this coming._

"Nothing I can't heal from," Nick replied safely. He smiled, eliciting one in return from Mr. Henler. "I have a question." Jason nodded. "Did you ever see signs? Something that pointed to how unhappy she was?"

The man sighed. "I should have. She was always uncomfortable when Faye got mentioned. She would instantly act _overly_ happy--fake."

"Like she was trying too hard," Nick filled in. Jason nodded.

"I could have prevented all of this," he said somberly.

Nick didn't answer, but watched the man's eyes moisten. He stood up and laid a quick, brotherly hand on Jason's shoulder before leaving the room.

He was leaving the precinct when Brass intercepted him.

"How'd it go?" Brass asked. Nick sighed, his good hand on his hip.

"Awkward."

Jim smiled. "Well, you're going to love this." Already Nick didn't. "Mrs. Henler is asking to see you."

Nick's face hardened, and he shot the detective a look. "Absolutely no way."

* * *

He was staring at a case file, a bit miffed that he couldn't go out in the field yet. For some reason, Grissom wouldn't allow it until next week. So he sat in the breakroom, catching up on cases.

He heard a knock at the doorway, and looked up to see Greg standing there with a smirk.

"Hey Greggo," he said. "How's it going?"

The young lab technician sat down. "Nothing much. Just wanted to see how _you_ were doing."

Nick smiled and opened his mouth to answer when someone else appeared in the doorway.

It was Grissom.

"Hey Gris," Nick greeted. He was about to say more when he noticed the expression on his boss's face.

"Amy Henler just escaped police custody," Grissom said, "using her husband as a hostage."

* * *

a/n: Kristen999 said something about not trusting me yet-even with Nick out of danger. You guys know me so well. :o) Hope you liked this chapter! 


	8. Spreeing

**Spreeing**

"Where is she now?" Grissom asked Brass as they convened in Grissom's office. Nick, Sara, Catherine and Warrick gathered as well, though none as tense as Nick.

"She got away," Brass said bitterly. "She had asked to speak with Nick and Jason Henler, separately. Nick declined, and while she was talking with Jason, she went nuts. She started attacking him, and the officers watching them had to separate them."

Nick closed his eyes. He could see it happening.

"Let me guess," he said softly, grabbing everyone's attention. "During the chaos, she managed to grab a gun from the officers." She'd manipulated the police before—Nick saw that first hand.

Brass slowly nodded. "She held Mr. Henler at gunpoint, and escaped."

"How do we know Jason Henler didn't help her?" Sara asked. "I mean, he could have played a part."

Nick shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "He was really torn up about everything she did."

"Yeah, well, she doesn't seem as torn up," Brass said. "The media has already caught wind of this, so heads up."

* * *

Time was of the essence whenever someone was missing. The police put out APB's about Mr. and Mrs. Henler, and the media added further fury to the case. Everyone was on alert and working.

Except Nick. Call it being too close to the case, or call it a lame excuse, in his opinion—but Grissom ordered him to go home.

He hated being left out.

But Nick went home. As he walked up to his door, he stopped, keys out and frozen mid-air.

_What if she comes for me?_

That thought freaked him out enough that he grabbed his gun. The only problem was holding it with his gimp arm. Nick switched the gun to his left hand and opened the door.

It was quiet. And dark.

Like he'd left it. In the dark shadows, though, something was there.

In the middle of the room.

Nick fumbled for a light switch, his gun still awkwardly in hand. Tension wound his body like a clock. The light came on, and washed over the room.

There in the middle of the room on his coffee table was a tall house plant, complete with a colorful card. He rolled his eyes at his reaction and went for the card.

It was from the team, wishing him well and saying how glad they were that he was back. It came a little late, in his opinion, but he appreciated it just the same.

Nick studied the plant. It was tall, and had long, sleek leaves.

_What do I do with a plant?_

* * *

Nick glanced at the clock as he got dressed after his shower. It was 4 a.m. His sense of time was still a bit off, after sleeping and lying around for a few days.

He didn't really feel tired, so instead of sweats he chose a pair of drab cargo pants and a navy t-shirt. Comfy, but not sleepwear.

The cuts on his wrists were healing nicely. They'd healed over into thick scabs—not the prettiest thing, but Nick took off the bandages. The brace, though, had to stay. Warrick had caught him twice trying to ditch it. He kept saying a cast would be worse, so suck it up. That reminded Nick--_I'm supposed to go see a doctor today._

He logged that away in his memory, just as someone knocked on his door.

"Who is it?" he called out. _It _is_ 4 in the morning._

"It's Grissom!"

Nick smiled. _Checking up on me_. That guy was always giving Nick a hard time, but part of him knew it was Grissom's way of showing he cared.

He opened the door with a grin on his face. "Hey, I'm not—"

Nick choked on his words as he saw Jason Henler standing in front of him. And he wasn't alone. Amy was off to the side, with a gun aimed at her husband's head.

"I'm sorry!" Jason whispered, his eyes wide.

Suddenly Amy came forward, and in one swoop, brought the gun down hard on Nick's head.

* * *

It sounded like a gun shot. That's what brought him around. Nick cracked open one eye at a time. His head felt like it was splitting apart.

_Gun shot_. Was it? He wasn't sure. He was lying on his side, and as he tried to move, he found his hands were tied in front of him. Panic started to seize him, until he heard someone groan.

He rolled on his back, turning towards the source. It was Amy.

And she was pushing her husband's body, sobbing as she moved him. He had a hole in his head, no doubt a close-range bullet. His eyes were open, lifeless, staring at some void. Nick fought back a gag reaction.

"You killed him," Nick barely said. Amy didn't even hear him, but she saw him move.

"He had to go," she said, sniffling. "He loved her the whole time."

She kept moving Jason Henler's body, rolling him towards . . . Nick squinted his eyes. _What is that?_

Nick looked beyond it to his surroundings. Bare cement, wood, steel bars . . . the smell of sawdust and rock. They were at a construction site. And Amy was moving the body to a pit of newly mixed cement.

"You understand, don't you, Nick?" Amy said. She sounded hopeful, her voice shaky. "He betrayed me. He acted like he loved me, but never forgot about her."

Nick swallowed. He hadn't thought being kidnapped could be topped. But Amy just escalated her crime spree to a brand new murder.

"And you," Amy said, "you didn't really care either. You probably don't even care now." She sighed unevenly and coughed on another sad cry. "It's too painful for me, Nick."

With a final stretch, she pushed Jason's body to the edge of the pit. Her attention was focused on getting him into the cement, and Nick knew he had to move.

He got to his feet, thankful they were unbound this time. He heard a soppy splash behind him as Jason's body started to sink. He couldn't look back, not even as Amy gasped when she saw him.

"Nick!" she screamed. Nick started to run, albeit crookedly. He braced himself for some shot, at least one. It came, but didn't hit him. Nick ducked instinctively, but kept running.

He had no idea where he was. He just darted behind foundation walls, weaving around until he found a bare-bones flight of stairs. Nick took them up three levels, figuring the farther he went, the safer he'd be.

Amy fired another shot, and this one hit into the wood by his feet. Nick picked up his pace as quickly as he could. He could hear her desperate sobs behind him, somewhere.

His hands hindered his speed, oddly enough. He thought about stopping to untie them, but Amy seemed too close. He ducked behind another wall, this one wooden.

His breathing was too loud, he thought. His heart beat hard against his chest, and he struggled to hear where Amy was now; she was quieter now. Slowly, he peeked around the wall.

No one was there. Nick stepped slowly, trying not to draw attention with his footsteps. He managed a few careful steps before breaking out into another panicked run. His eyes scanned the building as he ran. He didn't know what place this was. Through the empty spaces for exterior walls, he could see and hear traffic, but it didn't look familiar. It wasn't too close either.

Something scraped close by, and Nick froze for the briefest of moments. He quickly changed directions and hid behind another wall.

The sound had come from the middle of the building, which seemed like it'd be an open lobby or courtyard. The levels dead-ended at the opening. Was Amy out there?

He wasn't about to go look and find out.

Nick searched around for another flight of stairs. He had to get away, get to someone who could help. To his right was an open space. _Maybe for a reception area.__ Maybe there . . ._

He scuffed his shoes against the wood boards as he headed for that area. He winced.

Another bullet sounded, but Nick never heard the impact. Wherever she was, Amy wasn't aiming the right direction. Nick would take that as luck—he needed it. The open area produced a large square hole in the floor. He stopped just short of it.

_Where are the stairs?_ This must have been slated to be an elevator. Nick turned around, his bound hands swinging in front of him.

Back the way he'd come, he saw it. The stairs were tucked back in a corner. Nick ran for it.

Amy fired again, this time echoed by a frustrated scream. Both made Nick's skin chill to goose bumps. The bullet hit by him as he ran.

_Where is she firing from?!_ He still couldn't see her. It was dark out still, but the sun had to be close to rising. Suddenly, more bullets rang out, all hitting close to him and in the floor boards.

Nick ducked and quickly cut to his left. The bullets seemed to follow him. He half-dove behind a wall, and fell on his hands.

He suppressed the yell as much as possible, but the pain was inevitable from his right arm. It felt like fire, and it burned his broken bone. Nick's stomach lurched, and he heaved, trying to get the pain to pass without throwing up. His eyes watered until the pain eased up.

The quiet settled around him again.

Nick swallowed, and cradled his hands to his chest in some lame effort to protect his arm. He had to move. The quiet scared him more than the bullets.

_She could be anywhere._

The panic surged through him, begging a flight response, but Nick suppressed it. Running only made it easier for her to hear him.

Nick quickly turned. Something small clattered on the wood boards, maybe forty feet from him. He gulped and backed away from the invisible noise.

His eyes darted to every wall, every opening, every space. Somewhere . . . she was back there, and she wanted him to be like her husband.

He continued to back up, not trusting his instincts to dare look away.

"Nick."

It was only a whisper, but Nick gasped and jerked away as Amy suddenly appeared at his side. He stepped back, but didn't notice how close he'd come to the edge. Nothing stood between him and the open courtyard.

He fell back, and Amy grabbed at him, snagging his shirt. He only fell inches, but Amy's hold didn't last. Nick's weight was more than she could handle. She let out a terrified yell as he started to slip from her grasp.


	9. Hanging by a Moment

**Hanging By A Moment**

Another jarring pain went through his arm just after he started falling again. Several steel bars jutted out from the cement foundation and walls, and one snagged him at his restraints. The bindings were all that held him from a deadly fall.

He groaned through clenched teeth, closing his eyes to try to make the pain disappear. His weight tugged on his bound hands, sending tormenting pressure through his broken arm.

He ventured a look down.

The courtyard was at least fifty feet down. He saw the cement pit below him. Jason Henler's body had disappeared, no doubt sunk to the bottom of the pit.

"Nick!" Amy laid down on the floor and reached for him. She stretched herself as far as she could, and her fingers brushed his hands. "Nick, hold on!"

She was mumbling something else, something that sounded . . . irrational, panicked. _She's trying to save me now?!_ Not that he was complaining about that, but she just chased him down and tried to shoot him.

Something wet dropped down on his face, startling him. He glanced up at Amy. She was actually crying, this time harder than before.

Nick was on the verge of tears too. He groaned again. His arm felt like it was bending, more and more with each second. He felt weak all over as the pain became excruciating.

Amy croaked out another sob and grasped at his hands. "Hang on," she said, "Hang on." She kept repeating it. Nick couldn't help but wonder if she wanted him dead on her terms.

She started pulling on the bindings, a coarse rope. Nick bit down hard on his lip, stifling a yelp. She slid back, inch by inch, bringing him up.

Suddenly the rope started to give way. Nick's eyes shot open wide, looking from the rope to Amy. She just stared at him morosely, and tugged at the rope.

The knot gave.

Nick yelled, terrified as he slipped. He grabbed out to the bar with both hands, not caring that it would hurt when he grabbed the steel bar. It at least was something sturdy to keep him from death.

The pressure on his right arm was too much, and Nick immediately let go. He hung by his left hand only, his body swinging around from his measly grip. The ground below taunted him, and above him, Amy grabbed the gun.

"Goodbye, Nick," she said. Nick's eyes darted up to her. Despite his precarious situation, she lowered the gun at an angle, aiming for him. "I hope you understand."

She cocked the gun and moved her finger over the trigger.

"I do! Amy, please!" Nick asked frantically. His left arm shook, sending dangerous vibrations to the rest of him. His hand was getting slick and he tightened his grip as much as he could. "Amy, you don't have to do this."

She tipped her head to one side and smiled at him. It was sweet and sincere, something that, like everything else about her, threw him off.

"Nick. If you understood, you'd know I have to do this," she said. "I wish things could have been different."

Nick saw her finger slide back.

"How!" Nick shouted in a last-ditch effort. "If you hadn't killed Faye Green?" Risking her fury wasn't the wisest thing, he knew, but Nick was running out of options—and time. His left arm was giving way. Nick reached for the bar with his right arm, gritting his teeth as he made himself grip it.

"Faye tried to steal him!" Amy yelled. "She's to blame, not me!" She started to cry again, fresh tears leaving trails down her face. "I thought you saw that."

Nick tried to respond, but his arm hurt him with such intensity he never thought possible. He shut his eyes, trying to block out the pain just so he could hang on longer.

Maybe he was postponing the inevitable.

"It doesn't matter," she said, suddenly tossing the gun to the side. "That part of my life is over." Her eyes flickered to his arms. She saw the fatigue in him and stepped to the side. "Goodbye, Nick."

Her eyes lingered on his as Nick understood something. Though she'd tried, she couldn't just kill him. She wouldn't shoot him, even if part of her demanded it. No. Instead, she would leave him to his own death.

She stepped back again, her eyes never leaving his. But as she stepped backwards, her foot caught on another steel rod. She gasped as she stumbled. Her hands flailed as she tried to catch herself, brace her fall, anything.

Amy screamed as she failed. Her screams went with her, echoing off the bare structure as she plummeted to the courtyard. Nick's eyes followed her, until he quickly shut them as he heard the sickening thud of human flesh and bone on hard ground.

He started to shake.

Not just his arms. All of him. _I'm not going to get out of this._ Nothing was close to him, nothing to jump down to or move to. There was the level above him, but it seemed so far away.

_Better that than Amy's way._ With agonizing determination, Nick pulled his weight up with his left arm. His muscles spasmed, but he kept pulling. He flung his right arm onto the floor. His fingers just barely reached the edge.

He knew this was going to hurt like hell.

He pulled up with his right arm, yelling along with the protest his arm was making. That pressure seemed to bend his bone more and more. He succeeded in pulling himself up a few inches when he heard the bone snap.

He screamed and let go, falling slack with just his left hand gripping the bar. His arms throbbed, one broken, the other tiring. _I can't do this._

He swallowed as he saw the ground taunting him. _There's no way out of this._ His mind took him away from the pain, if only for a brief moment. He thought of his family. Texas. Catherine and Lindsay. Warrick. Greg. Grissom. Sara.

If he could go back, maybe he would have told them all things he'd never normally say. How much he appreciated their support. Their friendship. How he respected them. Admired them.

If he'd known he would end up like this, hanging with just moments left, maybe he would have gone along with Amy Henler. Maybe Jason Henler would still be alive. Maybe he would have found another way out. Maybe.

"Mrs. Henler!"

Nick almost let go at the sudden shout. It startled him, but at the same time gave him hope.

He knew that voice.

"Grissom!" he yelled.

"Hang on, Nick!" It was Warrick too. Nick's lip quivered. He was _trying_, but it just _hurt_ too much.

"Please hurry," he whispered. As if in response, he heard the echo of footsteps, hurrying up that flight of stairs.

Nick's hand slipped a bit, his grip sliding to the end of the steel bar. Nick yelped at that.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry," he said over and over to himself. He was losing feeling in his arm. He couldn't make his muscles work. Slowly, he saw his hand slip further, his muscles twitch uncontrollably, his body give up.

"Nick!!!"

Nick's heart dropped to his stomach. His grip gave, and he fell, the whole while staring up. Grissom and Warrick stared back, fear of the inevitable in their eyes.

They moved further and further away. Nick heard nothing but the sound of air rushing by him. His legs hit first, but instead of a chorus of cracks and pain, he heard goop and slosh.

The rest of his body sank in after his feet, diving into the wet cement. Nick shut his eyes as the speed halted and his heart bounced back to his chest.

Whether it was the force of the fall, the impact, or the fear catching up to him, Nick was out.

* * *

The EMTs swarmed around Nick's cement-clad body. He lay on the bare floor of the construction site. 

Grissom didn't know how bad Nick was. He only watched, trying to pick up pieces of what the EMTs whispered. They didn't say much, and that spoke loudly to Gil. The only thing he understood so far was the brace on Nick's right arm.

Brass was confining the media to the parking area while Warrick started to process the scene. Grissom knew they were too close to really work, but someone had to do it. Warrick kept glancing down at Nick as he photographed the level from which both Nick and Amy fell.

The coroner pronounced Amy Henler dead as soon as he arrived. Not that it was a surprise. The splatter was enough to prove she was gone. Gil shuddered, thinking that Nick could have ended up in that condition, if he'd fallen anymore to the left.

He clenched his teeth as the EMTs checked Nick's pulse for the twentieth time.

"Pretty strong," one of them said. Gil straightened up at that. "Should we move him?" He understood their hesitation to do so. They didn't know how badly hurt Nick was, and moving him could make things worse. But what else could they do here?

Nick groaned, startling the two EMTs.

"Nick," one of them said. The name sounded foreign coming from the EMT, but it still caught Nick's attention. Slowly he opened his eyes.

And grimaced.

"Don't move. Just tell us how you feel," the EMT said. Nick shut his eyes but reopened them after a long breath.

"Did you guys die," he said with a wheeze, "or am I still alive?"

A wave of relief covered Gil, and he allowed himself to chuckle. Nick heard it and lifted his head from the ground to see his boss. The movement panicked the EMTs, but Nick seemed unhurt there.

"Hey Gris," Nick said.

"Hey Nick," Grissom said, moving closer. "How are you feeling?"

Nick swallowed as if he were thinking about it. "Sore."

Grissom could have laughed at that as he glanced away at the height from which the CSI fell. 'Sore' was to be expected.

"Arm hurts," Nick added, cringing. The EMTs nodded, exchanging looks.

"How about your legs, Nick?" one asked. "Can you feel them? Move them?"

Nick nodded, and wiggled his legs and feet to prove it. That seemed to make the EMTs relax. They stood up.

"Okay," one said. "We're going to get you checked out at the hospital, especially that arm."

Nick merely nodded as the EMTs left to bring in the wheeled stretcher. Nick started to look around the site. He smiled up at Warrick, who smiled broadly and waved at his friend. Nick's eyes moved down again, as if he relived his fall. But he stopped and studied the body lying not far from his.

David from the coroner's office was making some final notes on Amy Henler. Nick frowned and just watched him for several moments.

Suddenly his eyes shifted to Grissom.

"She's dead?" Nick asked. Grissom nodded, and Nick seemed to relax. He laid his head back down against the floor and just shut his eyes. His chest expanded visibly as he took in a deep breath and sighed.

"Hey Gris?" he called out. Grissom went to his side.

"What is it, Nicky?"

"Jason Henler's dead too. Shot," Nick summed up. "She dumped him in the cement."

"David!" Grissom called over his shoulder. The young coroner's assistant looked up from Amy Henler's body. "You have another customer." He pointed at the cement with a little grimace.

A rickety noise caught their attention as the EMTs returned with the stretcher. Nick frowned at it, but didn't object as they moved him onto it. His face tightened with a wince as he was jostled, but he didn't make a sound. Grissom watched and felt a pang of pride. Nick was being so brave when he shouldn't have to be.

The EMTs wheeled him towards the parking area. Gil walked alongside his injured CSI, ready to shield him from the press.

He could already see the flashes of cameras and hear questions being fired off at Brass. The detective held them at bay, but they instantly turned from him when the stretcher came in view.

"Nick!"

"Mr. Stokes!"

"Mr. Grissom!"

Gil sighed and shot a look to Brass.

"Back up, people! Come on!" the detective bellowed. The officers 'securing' the scene stepped up their efforts, and the EMTs moved Nick along through the crowd.

"Gris?" Nick said suddenly, almost unfazed by the attention.

"Yeah, Nick."

He chewed on his lip for a second. "I don't think she knew what she wanted."

Grissom raised an eyebrow.

"What makes you say that?" he asked. Nick shrugged with a wince as he thought about it.

"She just wanted someone to love her," he said, his eyes slightly glazed as focused on some memory. "She wasn't happy."

Gil shook his head. "No, she wasn't.

A faint smile came over Grissom's face. He hadn't expected Nick to be so lucid, or even thoughtful—especially when it involved the woman who kidnapped and tried to kill him. Then again, Gil knew he often underestimated the young CSI.

"Hey Gris?" Nick said again, as the EMTs started to lower the stretcher to load him into the ambulance.

"Yeah, Nick?"

The young CSI offered his boss a sheepish grin.

"I think I'm ready for a vacation."

* * *

a/n: when I began this story, I knew it would be a quick and exciting one—which is why I decided to write it. It's not perfect, as none of my stories are, but I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading and reviewing! 


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